Firewhiskey Ramblings
by ElavielBlack
Summary: A drunken conversation with his friend ignites some evaluatory thoughts in Sirius Black's mind regarding both his family and his own personality. Reviews, constructive and otherwise, very welcome.


Moony always used to say that it was extremely fitting to my personality, the ability to change form; he found it amusing. Out of the four of us, Moony was the most aware - in both his self and of others; he saw more than he ever said aloud and when he did speak it was always away from prying ears. I attested many a time that James was my best friend, and fully believe it to be so still, however I am also most certain that it was Remus who knew me best. Who knew us all best.

It was on an extremely drunk and revealing occasion back in my seventh year that the notion occurred to me. Peter had been given a detention in Potions for melting Meredith Pince's cauldron and James was otherwise engaged with young Miss Evans, so Moony and I were making the most of a free evening with significant amounts of alcohol that we'd gleefully charmed from darling Rosmerta. Always a favourite of mine, she had left Hogwarts two years previously and had sustained a liking for both myself and James throughout our time at school together; she and I had many a pleasant memory together, and she was always willing to oblige with both my illegal wanderings and my consumption. Like I said, always one of my favourites.

Anyway, I digress.

We had gathered in a room on the seventh floor that we'd previously used for our several failed Animagi experiments, and various other non-academic charms and spells thereafter. It was a room, seemingly unplottable on our map though not for lack of trying, which seemed to change with each visit. The door was always in the same place, but each time we were greeted with a very different interior; for instance, as we were figuring our way through the process of becoming Animagi, the room was full of books and cauldrons and ingredients but if, hypothetically speaking of course, I happened to pass by with a flame haired beauty, it would conveniently hold several comfortable resting areas and other appropriate accessories. It seemed to change with the need of each individual situation and yet, we could not ever seem to find it on the map, nor add it ourselves, no matter how many attempts were made.

On this occasion the room was decked out with two large couches, a large fire and several glasses. There were pictures of some fine young ladies on the wall, along with a small smattering of the male form (I wasn't even going to ask, but it most certainly did not come from my brain!) and a bucket in the corner. Apparently the room knew just what Moony was like when intoxicated, right down to the end-of-night vomiting state.

We had started off slowly, a few Butterbeers to warm us up and it was all very relaxed. We chatted about the girls in our year, the adventures that we'd indulged in the fortnight beforehand and some other things that I can't quite remember. Insignificant details I'm sure, and hopefully nothing incriminating. Though I do recall him being mildly affronted that I'd turned the back of his robes pink during a period of Transfiguration that day, having not been informed of it until that very moment -- I'd since changed them back, but not before the majority of both staff and pupils of Hogwarts had been given an eyeful. The poor boy was mortified and I had to promise him several bottles of cherry Firewhisky to make up for it -- hopefully darling Rosmerta will offer a discount.

As we moved on to the first bottle of Firewhisky, Moony began to slip into his usual intoxicated mindset of reflective ramblings; I distinctly remember zoning out for a while as he pondered the behaviour of our Peter over the past few weeks. As he spoke, his voice a smooth, familiar calm and soothing in itself, my own mind began to wander. I found myself becoming increasingly melancholy in these relaxed states of intoxication, as my private, and purposefully closed off, thoughts had taken the liking of revealing themselves more openly to the rest of me for thorough consideration during these times.

I began to wonder about my younger brother Regulus; a fifth year, Slytherin of course, and someone I had been increasingly out of touch with over the years despite residing in the same buildings, and most certainly not for lack of trying. I had hoped, having broken from my family's grip, that he would follow my lead and move away from the dark behaviour of our relatives, that he would take control of his own mind and come to his own, thought-out decisions, and for a number of years I tried. It was to no avail, however, and I found that by attempting to show my brother that there was another way that we could go, another path that we could follow, another _life_ that we could lead, I was slowly but surely pushing him down the exact path that I was hoping he would avoid.

It played on my mind constantly; I knew of the people he spent time with, knew their families and their reputations - I'd heard my own parents speak of them in admiring terms and it just stood to right that they'd also be following the darker paths of life. It worried me. As loathe as I was to admit, and never _would_ I admit, I cared deeply for Regulus and his well being. He was becoming everything that I had fought against becoming myself, spending time with those that I'd purposely avoided and his behaviour was becoming more and more sinister; I could see it in the malicious sneer of he and his acquaintances (I refuse to call them friends), could see it in the dark looks that he'd throw across the corridors whenever I passed, could hear it in the accusatory voice with which he'd address me. James would always shrug it off, sneer back and hit him with a scathing remark which burned in my throat and mind before I adjusted my own features into something similar. We'd walk away having ruined the boy with our words; several attempts at hexing were made on both sides though I only stood to block - my blood brother and my brother by feelings at war with one another was not something that sat comfortably within myself and I was loathe to think of either getting hurt by it.

I had wanted to defend him, my blood brother, my Regulus, to James;_ it's not his fault, you don't know what our family is like - they're not as good as your mother and father, it's hard!_, but as much as I had the potential to try, I knew it would be in vain. I had been living with the Potters for over a year and I knew they held a Zero Tolerance stance on the Dark Arts. James was brought up much the same and though I could attempt to use the argument, _let's say you wanted to become a Death Eater, knew you were right, and tried to break away from those that you loved, knowing full well that they'd disown you for even considering the notion_, he would brush it off as ridiculous and tell me to get a grip.

_I _brushed it off as ridiculous.

Regulus' behaviour, while I could understand that it would feel like a natural progression for a member of our family to indulge, disgusted me. Every time I caught sight of him it reminded me of everything that I had been fighting against ever since I was capable of independent thought, and it was utterly beyond my abilities to comprehend why on earth he would want to continue indulging in these practices, knowing full well how awful they were. It wasn't about the_ greater good_, it wasn't about _pure bloods taking our rightful place_; it was ignorance, arrogance and violence, nothing less than that. Nothing less than unadulterated disrespect and bare-faced inhumanity. I had told him this, time and time again, ranted and raved at him for years, spoken quietly, evenly and through many a letter also, but he would not listen. He would tell me that I was a disgrace to the family, that I was damning everyone to a lower position in the pure blood hierarchy for thinking in the ways that I do.

He was, of course, echoing the thoughts of my mother, becoming more and more like her with every conversation, right down to the twisted expression and the _shame on our family _remarks. She had brainwashed him in my absence, dug deep into his psyche and bled him dry only to fill him with her poison; it was vile to watch, vile to see my little brother turning into a monster that he could've avoided becoming. It disgusted me._ He _disgusted me, in the way that he continued to seek out the darkened desires of wizards of less heart than us, as he began to explore the areas of magic which not even my naturally curious self would dare touch for fear of being tainted or affected forever. He had willingly turned into one of them and I had no control or no power to even sway his mind or make him consider his differing options. I wanted to shake him, to beat him into submission and _beg _him to see the other way, to consider our way - the safe, proper, accepting way in which we could live. I wanted him to come back to me.

It was with that sobering thought in mind that I realised Moony's voice was no longer providing a soothing background hum. My eyes flicked inquiringly over to where he lay outstretched on the opposite couch, only to find him watching me in silence and with sympathy.

I tried to speak, only to find my tongue was too big for my mouth; I needed another drink.

"He'll see sense soon enough, Padfoot."

We looked at one another for some seconds, long and drawn out. His voice was low, calm, and surprisingly sober for the amount that we'd been drinking. My insides twisted unpleasantly as, once again, he saw right through me. I shook my head, running a hand through my hair and reached over for my glass with a smile.

"Drink up, Moons - I don't think you've been sick yet and we've been here hours!" I tried to joke, to change the subject, but he barely cracked a smile. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at me.

"I know you worry." he continued. "You're a good liar in theory Sirius, but he's your brother. It's only natural to be concerned."

I shook my head, brushing him off and drank the majority of my Firewhisky in one go. This was neither the time nor the place to talk about my little brother and it was nothing to do with Moony; he had enough troubles of his own without my minute-in-comparison discomforts coming into consideration.

"Prongs has never lost anyone he's cared for; he's never been in your position. He's grown up in an entirely different setting, with entirely different morals and beliefs to your family and he doesn't..._understand_, the difficulty this situation holds for you. Much in the same way as it would be a natural reaction for you to follow in your family's footsteps, it is only natural for James to see it in his way, and his way only. It doesn't mean you should deny your feelings."

Moony had a knack for this, for being able to see through the smallest of cracks in a person's façade. It shouldn't have surprised me, still, as it wasn't the first time that he'd caught me out and called me on it. He was always the most rational of the four of us, the thinker, the analytical side of our company. Whereas James and I were content to jump headfirst into situations and deal with consequences as they came, Moony liked to think it out, consider the options and look ahead to each and every possibility. I don't know why I was surprised.

I sighed and lay back down across the couch, closing my eyes. I could feel the heaviness of the situation bearing down on me and now that I had someone telling me that it was only natural to feel this way, the dread in the pit of my stomach intensified. I always wondered if it was possible to lie to Moony, or if he saw through everything that people told him, truth, lies, motives, the psychology behind the chosen words; was he just a natural at sifting through people's innermost thoughts? I was slowly coming to realise that it was impossible to give him anything but the truth, and that trying to do otherwise was just foolish. Even if he didn't say anything, he always knew.

I opened my eyes to find him still watching me, this time a look of contemplation on his tired face. I quirked a smile, though I myself could feel the humourless effect that it had.

"I find it fitting that your Animagus form is a dog, Sirius," he said after a moment, shifting on his own couch so that he was stretched out from end to end and his head tilted to the side; we observed one another seriously. "And even more fitting that you are able to change form in the first place."

I frowned at him, not grasping what he meant. My mind felt cloudy; his words were now buzzing and swirling around and they seemed to roll into one another quickly, barely making sense. Perhaps he was slurring. Or perhaps I was drunker than I'd first anticipated.

"How do you mean?"

"Your loyalty is unyielding," he continued. "Even after all this time, and despite all the bad blood."

He paused for a moment.

"I'm not as flippant as Prongs, Sirius; I notice things."

I pulled myself up, this time taking the last bottle of Firewhisky and not even bothering to pour a glass; once again I drank straight from the bottle. This time, it seemed, Moony's ramblings had my attention.

"Go on," I replied, leaning forward in my seat. As I watched, his expression shifted from contemplative to mildly amused; he was fully aware that I wanted someone to tell me, to lay it out before me as opposed to letting it stew in my brain, ever present to chew over and over again.

"The thing with being in the thick of the action is that you miss things that people on the sidelines don't. I notice the way you have to stop your eyes from following him around a room. I wouldn't be surprised if you missed him."

I laughed; the sound was humourless, and I was certain he saw right through it.

"He cares about you too, Sirius," Moony continued, raising his eyebrows. "I think you've affected him more than you know. These things take time, but he'll realize eventually."

We sat in silence for a good few minutes. It felt heavy, the air thick and stuffy; almost immediately a gust of fresh air blew through the room, filling my lungs and I heard him laugh softly before pulling himself up, swaying as he set his feet on the ground.

"I'm making you nervous, Padfoot?" he questioned, his voice now with a slurring lilt, a telling smile on his face; he knew as well as I did that the room in which we sat gave precisely what was needed by the individual inside.

I shook my head, forcing a grin onto my own features.

"Don't know who you think you're talking to, boy, but nerves are not something I'm familiar with."

I offered a wink before taking a rather large gulp of whisky; it burned as it slid down my throat and I couldn't hold back the grimace that it provoked. "Vile," I muttered, and Remus laughed.

"For someone who professes to despise the taste of alcohol, you're not exactly doing much to support that claim; it's an acquired taste, I wouldn't push it."

"It_ is_ an acquired taste, and one which I'm fully intending to acquire," I countered, quirking an eyebrow and taking another drink. He laughed again and this time his laughter was full; I began to wonder if he'd been sneaking drinks while I wasn't looking – in the space of five minutes he'd gone from what had seemed relatively sober to utterly intoxicated. Or perhaps I just wasn't paying enough attention.

With that thought in mind, I settled back into the couch and regarded my friend. He looked tired; his eyes had heavy bags underneath them and the eyes themselves were raw. He was relaxed, though, and smiling, which brightened his demeanor significantly; despite his outer appearance attempting to prove otherwise, I knew he was happy. The thought made me feel much the same.

I caught his eye and we shared a mutual smile. He tipped his glass to me and uttered a small _cheers_, though the Firewhisky in his glass sloshed over the side; Moony was definitely intoxicated now. We continued to drink in silence and it occurred to me that this was the quietest things had been in a long time; there were no interruptions, no Peter giving continual running commentaries of the action within the group, no Prongs jibbering about Quiddich or tactics to ensnare whatever lady he had decided to chase in order to take his mind off Evans or, more recently, how wonderful it was when she did this or that. It was a welcome change.

It was then that he said something that really caught me off guard.

"So is this Sirius or Padfoot that we have tonight?" he asked, his words slurred.

I shot him a questioning look, feeling extremely taken aback.

"I…didn't realize there was a difference."

He nodded, raising his eyes before flopping along the couch and slumping awkwardly over the edge. Crooking my head, I saw that he had fallen asleep. Trust him to say something like that and then not be around to follow it up with an explanation. I frowned, settling back to think it over and the more I did, the more what Moony said made sense.

I supposed I did have something of a split personality. There were times when I was loud, brash, effectively charming and constantly laughing – those were the times when I was with James and at my lightest, craving company (particularly that of the ladies), fun and adventure. There was nothing that could stop me from doing my own thing and doing whatever it took in order to have a good time while I was in that frame of mind.

And then there were times, much like this moment, when I was quieter, more contemplative and my moods felt heavy, dark. Put the name "Black" in a whole different light, really; made me feel like perhaps I wasn't that far a departure from my family members, after all. They were all off-balance in their own way; perhaps this was how I was so.

I thought about the Sorting Hat back in my first year, how we had argued with one another as to where I should be placed and I remember clear as day him saying that I should be in Slytherin with the rest of my family. I completely disagreed, said that I knew what it would be like in Slytherin as I'd been surrounded by them for my entire life, said that I'd wanted to try something new – I wanted to be in one of the other houses, I wanted to be in Gryffindor just to see what it would be like. I thought I could flourish there, push the boundaries of what was expected of me and could show my family that being different wasn't wrong. I wanted to be their case example. At eleven years old I knew what I wanted to do, and the hat eventually gave in, citing that it was just as well that I had the Black's genes as I'd never get away with half of what he was expecting of me if I looked like a Longbottom.

Perhaps Padfoot was that side, the determined side of me, the one that refused to settle for what was easy and potentially wrong. Perhaps it was the positive side of me, the easygoing and confident me, the one who would push boundaries without a care, the one who said "fuck it" and went with whatever was happening at the time, fearless and doing pretty ok for it; the _happy_ version of myself. I could see it. It was interesting, and gave me a small spark of hope for my brother.

I was jolted from my thoughts by a sharp snore coming from the other couch and I looked over to see Moony hanging headfirst over its edge, drooling slightly and absolutely dead to the world. I smiled, stumbling over to him, on my way picking up a blanket that lay folded in front of the fire. I pushed him until he was lying safely away from the couch's edge, throwing the blanket over him before reaching for the bucket. The room really did know him too well.

I recalled every time we had come here to get drunk together, all the times that I'd had to hold his head up to stop his face being buried in the bucket along with the contents of his stomach, every time I'd had to stop him from stripping and running through the corridors of Hogwarts with nothing but a watch around his wrist, and couldn't help but laugh; how on earth that boy could say something so insightful and thought-provoking one minute and then be beyond paralytic with intoxication the next was beyond me. It made me think that perhaps we all had two sides to us that battled with each other for a dominant place, and perhaps some of us were just better at hiding it than others. I thought back to Moony lording it over us all in a game of Strip Poker a few weeks ago and had all the confirmation I needed.


End file.
